


Let Me Tell You 'bout The Birds And The Bees

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M, Nesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's approach to romance is scarcely what you would call traditional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Tell You 'bout The Birds And The Bees

Castiel's thumb caught on his lower lip, and Dean knew it was the last chance he would have to say no, the last chance to stop all this before it got too weird.

It was then that the rational part of his mind pointed out he was sitting in a human-sized nest in a complete stranger's attic. It was hard to justify calling anything weird with that as a comparison point.

Castiel moved his hand down to Dean's neck before leaning over to kiss him, and Dean figured - what the Hell. He kissed back. And given how Castiel kissed, it was one of the better decisions he'd made in his life.

.

It had started with his and Sam's bag of used clothes disappearing from the back of the car. He'd been pissed to high Heaven, swearing to kill the son of a bitch who'd stolen their clothes, but there wasn't much to be done. In retrospect, he should have guessed that any real thief would have been more interested in their knives and guns than their dirty laundry, but he wasn't exactly Sherlock Holmes.

The first clue something untoward might be going on with regards to _Castiel_ had involved leaving a particularly unpleasant bloodbath at a vampire nest, angel in tow, when Castiel suddenly paused to rip up the garden's picket fence, frowning at Dean's confused expression when he looked up from his spontaneous outburst of vandalism. "What?"

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Castiel picked up the wooden spikes, ignorant of loose nails or splinters, muttering something under his breath that wasn't English but likely translated to something involving breeding and goats.

"You're not putting that in the car," Dean said, wishing his words had come out sounding more like a statement than a question.

"Yes, I am," Castiel said, climbing into the back seat of the Impala with his ill-gotten gains, and that was that.

.

At least, it was for a little while.

.

Living with Castiel was a source of never-ending strangeness under regular circumstances - 'regular' for them being strange for most people as things stood anyway - and Dean hadn't really known how to approach the discussion of how normal people don't steal fences. It wasn't the only discussion he needed to have and hadn't worked out the words for.

He hadn't asked Castiel why he always left the bath black after use, despite never looking particularly dirty before one or particularly clean after one.

He hadn't asked why Castiel thought custard powder was an acceptable substitute for eggs, regardless of what he was cooking.

He hadn't asked why Castiel, if given the remote, would leave the television on adult preview channels for hours at a time, staring intently with a worried little frown and no erection.

There were plenty of questions Dean could ask Castiel but chose not to. Life was just so, so much easier when he left those questions alone and let Castiel carry on being weird and unfathomable; he'd learned his lesson after attempting to teach Castiel about personal space.

.

Dean still had limits though, and after noticing how fences kept disappearing wherever they went in town, he decided it was time to have an intervention.

He couldn't find the means to be honestly shocked when he found Castiel up in one of their temporary neighbours' trees, arms filled with dead branches.

"Cas, are we gonna talk about this?"

"No."

"Wasn't really a question," Dean shouted up. "Why are you collecting firewood in the middle of summer?"

Castiel was quiet, tense, and anything but still, nervous energy radiating off him in waves. Dean really hoped he wasn't about to explode again.

"Cas?"

"I'm nesting," Castiel sighed, before hopping down from the tree.

Dean blinked. "What do you mean, you're nesting?"

"I'm building a nest," Castiel said, his tone and expression screaming 'and you are an idiot'.

"Why?"

Castiel grit his teeth. "Because I have the misfortune of knowing someone who stimulates my mating instincts."

"Who's the lucky woman?" Dean asked.

Asking was a mistake, ending in a face full of branches and a pissed off angel storming away, presumably to find more fences to steal.

.

Dean was used to waking in the middle of the night, but not so used to waking up without a sense of panic causing it. It was just a need, instinctive, and he dressed quickly, slipped Ruby's knife into his jeans just in case, before walking outside.

Apart from the occasional passing car the streets were asleep; it was probably about four a.m., given there were no drunks stumbling home late or early starters walking their dogs. He knew full well nothing natural made a person need to take a walk at this time of night - or, arguably, morning - and Dean felt for the knife again, double checking he still had it.

He stopped at a house near the edge of town, curtains drawn but the hallway light on - occupied, then - and wondered why he'd stopped before looking a little higher.

The attic window was open and Castiel was sitting on the ledge, sulking - and naked.

"Cas? The Hell?"

"You came," Castiel said, expression weary but pleased.

"Well, yeah - what are you doing up there?"

"Come up," Castiel said before heading inside the attic.

Dean rolled his eyes and did as he was told, thankful for the tree overhanging the house and hoping the owner was either deaf or a really deep sleeper.

.

The inside of the room demonstrated exactly what nesting meant for an angel; bits of fencing, garden furniture and wooden slats made the thicker outer frame of the nest, the inner frame mostly twigs and branches, and the floor padded with stolen clothes - some of which, Dean noted with concern, were neither his or Sam's.

"I thought you weren't interested in men," Castiel said, sitting down in the middle of the nest, and yeah, still naked. Dean felt himself start to sweat. "Despite your teasing."

"I'm not," Dean said, moving to sit down next to Castiel, clothes feeling all too uncomfortably confining. "You're just -" you. Hot. Perfect. Castiel. "Weird."

Castiel cupped his cheek in one hand, thumb catching on his lower lip.

.

Deaf, Dean decided. Definitely deaf. Either that, or very quiet about getting out of bed to call the cops when two men started having very enthusiastic, very loud sex in their attic.

Not that the owner of the house was much of a concern any more, not with Castiel curled around him, heavy and warm and irritatingly gorgeous.

Also, disturbingly clean. He was starting to think Castiel didn't actually make dirt disappear, he just made it invisible until he got near a bath - though that said, if his theory was true, the fact he'd just spent the last twenty minutes stroking and licking Castiel's skin was pretty disgusting.

He'd let Castiel keep the secret of the mysteriously black baths. It wasn't worth knowing if it would mean losing this.

"You can't just build a nest every time you want sex," Dean said, stroking his hand through Castiel's hair. "Someone's going to catch you breaking into the attic eventually."

Castiel shrugged. "I can take the memory away."

Dean grimaced, tried to ignore the creepier implications of Castiel's statement. "No, you can't. Shouldn't," he corrected himself when Castiel opened his mouth. "Sam's a grown boy, he can have his own room."

Castiel looked puzzled, as if the possibility of sharing a bed with Dean hadn't even occurred to him, before propping himself up on his elbow, looking down at Dean. "Why am I an exception?"

Dean's mouth opened but no words came; he'd expected this conversation _eventually_, but having Castiel spring it on him out of the blue left him a little lost. "I'm not -"

Castiel smiled faintly. "I forget how young you are," he said before settling back down, resting his head against Dean's shoulder. "I'll ask later."

Dean couldn't really argue with that, even if he wanted to, resumed stroking his hand through Castiel's hair, before grinning to himself. Castiel would ask later.

That meant there _was_ a later.

Choosing to kiss Castiel hadn't been one of the better decisions in his life; it had been the best.

.

The End


End file.
